Chasing Ghosts
by FLECHER
Summary: Even with the Reapers gone, the memory of them isn't. Shepard knows better than anyone to expect the worst, but now that the worst has passed, can she let go of the horrors of the War? PostME3 - Oneshot


**NOTICE: THIS IS POST "DREAMING AFTER DEATH."**

This was an idea floating around in my head for a little bit, concerning how much trauma Shepard is put through over the course of the trilogy. I know it was covered a bit in the original story, but the 'lasting effects' were not.

So here I go...

* * *

"They want you to evaluate new candidates?"

"Yeah," Ashira glanced over the datapad again, her eyes running down a short list of names. "Guess they figure I would be the best person to learn from." A more detailed account of each person on the list could be found if she scrolled down but right now her mind was distracted by the scent of delicious food surrounding her. She looked up and smiled to herself, settled at the island in the middle of her kitchen and simply watching the Asari across from her.

The first time Samara cooked it surprised her, purely because she hadn't really thought of the Asari cooking something. But she supposed it made sense in retrospect; alongside her time as a mother she couldn't picture the older woman not being good at something if she put her mind to it. Just as well because whilst Ashira could handle the basics of it, she just could not make things taste as ridiculously good.

Samara noticed the human watching her and a small, amused smile found itself on her lips. "Have you met any of them yet?"

Ashira sighed softly, leaning on one elbow and looking over the list again. "I met Areveth Vorae, Asari commando; she helped hold a lot of key locations during the War. Very skilled, professional, a bit eager to serve," she scrolled down a bit, "also Hyulluck Uros, Salarian. Exceptional skill as a sniper and infiltration specialist; served alongside Areveth as part of the team Hackett put together for critical missions. They work well together so I might suggest them pairing up for future operations."

Samara looked up briefly, "I assume it is professional?"

Ashira nodded, "I thought of that, but no, it's just a fire-forged friendship. They'll do well."

"Any others?"

"I still have to meet the only human on the list, Karis Redd. Combat engineer, excellent marksmanship, showed she was able to hack and sabotage anything under pressure during the War. _Also_ served with Hyulluck and Areveth," Ashira raised a brow, "guess I'm getting everyone who survived Hackett's missions."

Samara tilted her head, "then they are no doubt highly skilled individuals."

Ashira nodded again, setting the datapad down, "looks like it."

"They will be in good hands."

"Maybe."

"You doubt your ability?"

"I might be a little too wound-up for them to learn anything other than how to be a paranoid war veteran 101."

"You are a skilled, versatile professional who has critical knowledge to impart. You will be able to test them like no other will, or would. Your personal troubles never detracted from your prowess, Ash."

"Really?"

"You took out targets in a far bolder manner. But you appeared to keep your wits about you, employing tactics even with your emotions running amok. You just became more brutal to your enemies, not an easier target."

Ashira sighed softly, "good to know."

Samara paused momentarily, catching the soldier's eye, "though I would not recommend using such methods."

The soldier managed a light laugh, shaking her head, "yeah, I'm not going to tell them that charging an enemy who's already firing at you is a good idea."

Samara raised a brow, "unless you had the forethought to pick up the enemy's shield?"

Ashira grinned, "at which point you proceed to bash his face with it for being stupid enough to drop it in the first place."

"And then what? Charge through several more troops or use the shield as an improvised hammer?"

"When did I do the second one?"

"I believe that was the mission on Arrae."

"Oh...oh right, yes. I ran out of bullets."

"An impressive feat by itself."

"Very funny."

* * *

The heat and flash of fire burning her, that horrible Reaper screech filling her ears; both were just flickers of imagery in her mind trying to call her back to the waking world. Her body was heavy and numb in a lot of places. The hard floor beneath her was sticky, wetting one side of her face.

When her eyes finally opened Ashira barely managed to take a breath, her vision blurry for a moment. Then they focused and her throat closed, trapping the sound of fear and disgust that wanted to escape. Barely a few feet away corpses were piled around her, some partly processed and others just bits and pieces of what had once been a body. The torso of a man lay back at the topmost curve of the pile, his head hanging down and eyeless sockets seeming to stare directly at her. His jaw was locked open in horror and pain, blood and lacerations decorating discoloured skin.

Forcing her eyes away Ashira tried to move, her hands pressing down against the floor. A reddish substance covered it in a thin film, coating her palms with the dark scent of bile and rot. Slipping briefly Ashira caught herself, managing to stop her face from colliding with the ground. Her ribs protested from the harsh, quick movement, fragments of them shifting angrily against her insides like a swarm of angry hornets.

Managing to get to her knees Ashira looked around, trying not to take in the details even as they surrounded her and clamoured for her attention like the silent screams of a neglected child.

Something wet dripped onto her head from above. Ashira flinched, shivering, and resisted the urge to look up. She didn't want to know; judging from her surrounds she could make an educated guess.

From what she could see, she was in a tunnel with barely enough light to make out it's shape.

"_And now you are alone, Shepard."_

Harbinger's voice rumbled from the shadows around her, causing another flinch in the soldier. _"Your allies have fallen."_

Ashira grit her teeth, about to speak out against the Reaper's confidence when blood snaked up her throat, violently spraying between her lips when she started coughing.

The machine's voice spoke again, quietly, assuredly, _"you have failed."_

. . .

Her eyes snapped open, seeing only darkness with the faintest of blue light playing with the shadows across her ceiling. Curling the fingers of one hand she found only bed sheets bundled between them, dry and warm.

Her breathing was slow to calm down, mind still wrestling itself into the comforting reality she'd woken up to. She was in her apartment, lying in bed with the one she loved – the war was won, her friends were doing well. Everything was alright. Everything was fine. It would be fine.

Carefully sitting up, Ashira pulled her arm free of a sleeping Samara, trying not to wake the Asari. Seeing she hadn't, the soldier sighed quietly to herself and rest her face in her hands. What was wrong with her? She had finally won, once and for all the Reapers had been defeated, destroyed; annihilated. She should be at peace now, shouldn't she?

She wondered if the others suffered from nightmares like this. Did Garrus have dreams of his near death on Omega? Did Liara have dreams of seeing Thessia in ruins?

She had won. The Reapers were gone. Any fear of losing everything should have been eliminated with their destruction. Yet the possibility continued to haunt her sleep – the Reapers mocked her even from whatever served as hell for them.

A shift in weight to her side caused Ashira to look up, but not before a pair of arms had looped around her. She turned her head away, a somewhat guilty look crossing her face, "didn't mean to wake you."

Samara's voice was gentle, "you needn't worry." A light kiss on her shoulder invoked a small measure of comfort in the Human; Ashira managed the slightest of smiles. "Guess even a big bad soldier can get scared," she muttered.

Samara's arms tightened around her, "there is little shame to be felt from that."

Ashira shook her head, frowning deeply, "the Reapers are _gone_."

"But the memory of them is not."

"I can't fight a memory."

"You cannot fight it with a gun, no."

"It'd be nice if it were that easy."

"The galaxy has shown more than once that not many things are."

"No kidding..."

Samara's head nestled against her neck, "Ash."

Ashira sighed softly, closing her eyes and leaning back into the Asari, "I know and I won't: I know better." Through many a discussion and plenty of meditation, they had come to the conclusion that her emotions became so volatile during the War because she repressed a great deal of them during her dealings with Cerberus and the Collectors.

With everything going on during the War, Ashira certainly would've felt the pressure wear down on her – but the unresolved, tangled mass of anger and stress from having to _work_ with Cerberus finally found it's way to the surface. It made for rather explosive and unpredictable emotions.

No. She definitely knew better than to ignore this.

Shifting around, Ashira buried her face in Samara's shoulder and allowed the Asari to pull her down into a protective embrace.

The first few months after waking her sleep was extremely fitful and erratic, even if she had finally let go of Nicole and the horrors of Akuze, it just left room for everything else she had been through to take it's turn. When Samara came back she found some semblance of actual peace settle within her and her sleep slowly began to calm down. Yet at least once a week the nightmares would come back, sometimes more, sometimes less, but it was always just a matter of time before she closed her eyes and found herself surrounded by some twisted depiction of her failure and fear.

Harbinger's voice was a consistent threat, taunting the human for those she had failed to save, for all the deaths and the blood on her hands, for every life snuffed from existence wrapped up in the words, 'you could have saved me.'

Was it guilt for _not_ saving everyone? Was it guilt for not doing more to save her friends?

She could never have done anything to save Ashley, it was either her or Kaiden and there was no time left for a last second rescue. They would've all died had she not chosen and gotten away with at least one of them.

Mordin's sacrifice she could not have done anything to prevent short of sabotaging the cure and physically stopping him; two things she could have never done.

Thane's had him die protecting the Salarian councillor from a would-be assassin. Ashira could find endless ways to torture herself about how she _could_ have done this or that, but there was little point other than being a masochist.

Legion's death was another sacrifice for a people, his own people so they could truly be alive as individuals. She could think of no feasible way she could have had him live and for everything to be okay, the Geth needed his experience to complete them.

Ashira closed her eyes, frowning deeply. She was supposed to let them rest.

Samara's quiet voice distracted her, "Ash, if you allow it, I would attempt to help you next time."

Her eyes opened just slightly, confusion flickering across her features, "a meld?"

"I would be with you; I would be the 'gun' you need."

"How would that even work?"

"Asleep your mind is more pliant, you are not consciously aware that someone else is trying to enter your thoughts. If I did something overt whilst there, you would know upon waking."

"So you could step in while the dream is happening?"

"Yes."

"You didn't mention this before."

"Your mind is more open to intrusion but it is less controlled due to the lack of conscious thought."

"I could hurt you without meaning to?"

"It is a possibility."

"I don't want you doing this."

"You fear hurting me?"

"Well what kind of damage would we be talking about here?"

"I can keep myself shielded from anything serious. The worst you _might_ do is give me headaches for a few days."

"Okay, so I wouldn't accidentally cause a haemorrhage?"

She could hear the gentle smile in Samara's tone, "no, you would not."

"Alright..."

"Ash?"

"Next time. We can try this next time."

"I will be ready."

* * *

It took a few days but she managed to flip her sleeping pattern so she would be awake and watchful as Ashira slept. The first few mornings when the soldier woke without trouble she appeared guilty and apologized; she never did feel comfortable 'putting someone else up to something.' Samara reminded her of who proposed this idea and brushed the young Human's concern aside – she seemed to relax after that.

With Ashira curled up at her side Samara propped herself up with the majority of their pillows, reading one of the many old books that detailed the lives of samurai. Ashira had pointed them out as something she might find interesting; they had certainly helped in keeping her awake.

Occasionally Ashira would shift but she paid it no mind, it was brief and the soldier settled quickly. If she made a sound however that garnered attention, she usually wasn't quiet if her sleep was troubling her, even if the most she did was mumble something unintelligible or grind her teeth. The second one nearly made her jump the first time she heard it; it was like the smothered noise of metal scraping against metal.

A soft grunt escaped the sleeping woman and Samara looked down at her, noting the deep frown etching itself into Ashira's face. Putting the book down she turned on her side, careful not to jostle Ashira. A few seconds observing her and the soldier's lips straightened then curled down, another muffled sound of discomfort leaving her throat.

Using one hand to steady Ashira's head, Samara gently pulled the human closer to her, eyes falling shut as she took a moment to focus and reach out.

Fear was the first thing to intrude upon her, darkness like ice water trying to soak into her mind. Her eyes opened and she was no longer lying on their bed, cradling a troubled soldier in her arms. She was standing in a dark tunnel, surrounded by corpses and rot with the barest of the red light. The feeling of loss and horror pressed down against her skin, but she pushed through it; she could not let Ashira's emotions overwhelm her own here. The details of this place were far clearer than she was comfortable with and she forced herself to begin walking; she could hear laboured breathing ahead of her.

Only a few steps were taken until a dark figure lay sprawled on the ground before her, once clear pale skin burned and coated with viscera, armour broken and melted. Ashira was struggling to get on her knees, hands curled hesitantly against the wet floor.

"_Submit to me, Shepard."_

A deep rumble of a voice reverberated off the enclosed walls of the tunnel, it was one she had heard many times in their fight against the Collectors; Harbinger.

Hopelessness stabbed at her and Samara shook her head; Ashira needed something very different here.

Closing her eyes a moment she pulled in her own emotions, hiding them beneath a practiced veneer of calm. When she opened them again, a Justicar stood before the struggling human, peering down at her with conviction and resolve. "Shepard."

Ashira craned her neck, just barely managing to meet the Asari's eyes. Blood was a liberal decoration on her face, bruises and cuts marring alabaster skin – her pale eyes were broken, wet with frustration and grief.

Kneeling, Samara did not reach out to the soldier just yet. "Shepard, the galaxy is not lost. We are still alive, we are still fighting; but we need you."

Ashira frowned, "these bodies, Harbinger-"

"The Reapers want to break you, Shepard. They are trying to tell you that you have failed."

"But I have, everyone is depending on me and I'm...I can't..."

Ashira's head began to bow and Samara reached down, taking the soldier's jaw in her hands to making her look up. Her eyes barely seemed to focus, but Samara knew she was listening. "You have defied them at every turn, you have led the charge against them from the moment you knew of their existence. Even when everything was hidden by lies and trickery you continued, when no one wanted to listen or believe you, you continued."

Carefully she stood, bringing Ashira up with her; the soldier's face was pained but she continued to pay attention. "Why would you give them the satisfaction of giving up? Knowing that the hero we followed into this frightening, unknowable darkness left us when we needed her most? You are _not_ their pawn, you are not Saren and you are not the Illusive Man."

A measure of clarity seemed to return to Ashira's eyes, "I..." she pulled away from Samara, standing on her own. She stumbled a little, hissing and clutching her side, but she remained on her feet, "I won't."

"Won't what?"

"I won't give up. They'll have to _kill_ me before I give up."

The sound of heavy doors opening was accompanied by white light filtering in behind her. Ashira straightened only slightly, looking over her shoulder, "Anderson's waiting for me, I need to catch up to him," her brows furrowed with determination, looking at the Justicar again, "I won't lose this war."

Samara nodded and stepped aside, allowing Ashira to walk by her at a slow but steady pace towards the end of the tunnel. The pressure against her was slowly alleviating, the negative emotions replaced with the same stubborn sense of duty Samara was familiar with.

It was definitely the time to leave.

. . .

When her eyes opened again she was greeted by a very peaceful looking human; Ashira had thankfully remained asleep.

With a tired smile, Samara bent her head down to place a kiss on Ashira's forehead, earning her a very sleepy nuzzle from the unconscious soldier.

Hopefully her actions would lessen the degree of trauma and stress Ashira's mind seemed to foist upon her. For now she could rest easier knowing this particular dream had ended in a far more desirable manner.

Tightening her arms around the dozing Spectre, Samara closed her eyes and relaxed, finally allowing herself to rest.

For now at least, she had chased the ghosts of Ashira's guilt and sorrow away. Nothing would be fixed overnight, but they both knew to take victories where they found them, however small.

* * *

Still not sure about the very last bit after Samara retreats from Ash's dream, but ultimately happy with how this turned out.

The next one-shot will be lighter and happier than this; I promise! :)

**BTW:** Regards the "metal on metal" teeth grinding. My father grinds his teeth in his sleep when stressed and I seriously wish I was joking when I say it sounds like metal scraping metal. I have dentist-like sympathy pains when I hear it.


End file.
